


Classy As BALLS

by meh_guh



Series: Tony the Polyglot and his Sneaky Sniper Boyfriend [7]
Category: Marvel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>616 Tony turns up. Sending him back might be problematic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Classy As BALLS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aer/gifts).



> Ahahaha, so Aer prompted for a Tony-speaks-Tagalog story and I wrote this even though it has NOTHING BUT THE TAGALOG to do with her actual prompt. Whoops /o\ I guess I'll write another spin-off with your actual prompt if you want it?

The klaxon blaring through the tower was never a pleasant experience, but on two hours' sleep and a budding hangover it left Clint inclined to bury his head under a pillow and _let_ Doom flatten Brooklyn or whatever the damn threat was this time.

There was a flash of blue light as Tony threw his half of the blankets off, and Clint gave himself five seconds of clenched eyes before he followed.

'We're up, JARVIS,' Tony shouted as Clint dragged on his pants. 'Mute the fucking alarm already!'

'Error,' JARVIS replied, though the sound thankfully shut off. 'Error, sir. Conflicting reports coming in; I believe I need to be debugged-'

Tony's face got the fierce look specific to when someone threatened one of his babies, and he flung a hand along the picture window, bringing up an interface. 'First things first, there's no Avengers emergency report?'

The display on the window flashed through the cable news stations and Stark Tower's security feed, but everything was A-OK as far as Clint could see. New York was as quiet as it ever got, though if the rest of the team had been woken the same way he couldn't say that state of affairs would persist for long.

'This a hack?' he bent to retrieve a shirt from the floor. When Tony made an unhappy sound, but didn't immediately contradict him, Clint brushed a kiss over Tony's neck and jogged for the common areas to intercept Hulk if possible. Next to Tony he had the best record for distracting the big guy from unnecessary smashing.

He skidded around the corner into the corridor that led to Bruce's room and slammed to a stop, dropping into a crouch and fumbling for a weapon or communicator that wasn't there.

Something that looked for all the world like Tony turned to grin at him. 'So the Triumph Division _did_ work out how to teleport a non-mutant, huh?'

Clint dived to the nearest intercom. 'Avengers! Intruder in section theta!'

Not-Tony's smile turned quizical. 'Come on, Hawkeye. I know you're not expecting a visit from the sponsor, but it's a bit of an overreaction to-'

Cap thundered around the corner in full battle gear, and Not-Tony's grin shaded into something a little more genuine. 'Steve, I-'

'Hawkeye,' Cap lowered his shield a fraction. 'Where's the intruder?'

Clint gestured at Not-Tony, cataloguing all the miniscule differences. Hairstyle was off, stance a little too rigid, eyes... blue? OK, _that_ at least was going to be an easy tell. 'JARVIS went nuts, Tony's in our room hunting hackers, but I think this might be why.'

' _Our_ room?!' Not-Tony squeaked, then cleared his throat and made a hilarious overcompensation with body language and tone. 'Uh, I'm guessing there's something screwball going on here?'

'We specialise in screwball,' Tony announced from a few feet behind Clint, and Clint relaxed a little at the hand stroking down his back before Tony stepped past him. 'Hello alternate version of me. I think you're in the wrong universe.'

Of all the reactions Clint would have thought appropriate, Not-Tony's response was pretty far down the list.

'For fuck's sake,' he threw his hands up and slumped against the wall. 'Not _again!_ '

****

Tony seemed completely unconcerned, and Cap was there to keep an eye on them, so Clint went back to bed for some well-deserved and much-needed sleeping-off of the night before. Six hours later, he strolled into the kitchen to fetch coffee, tangling his fingers in Tony's hair on his way past the duo.

'Uh...' Tony said, and oh. Clint had ruffled the wrong Tony.

'Sorry,' he shrugged and turned his attention to adjusting his coffee to a drinkable state. 'You guys worked it out yet?'

Tony shared a glance with Alternate Tony and shot a significant glance between the coffee pot in Clint's hand and his own mug. Clint rolled his eyes and brought the pot over to top up the Tonys' java.

'Well,' Tony said, fingers tapping a stacatto rhythm on his mug. 'Apparently there's a team of superheroes in the Philippines I was helping out with a technical issue-'

'There seem to be vastly fewer teams in your universe,' Alternate Tony chimed in. 'Frankly, I think I'm jealous you haven't needed to spawn as many heroes as my world. Oh! _Tell_ me Richards doesn't exist here!'

'Reed Richards?' Tony asked with a pained expression. 'Sorry, that chronic pain is large and throbbing. But his girlfriend's pretty good at distracting him. And he's probably our best next option for getting you home.'

' _After_ we've exhausted our super brains,' Alternate Tony said firmly. 'I don't think I could face Richards if it was one of his alternates to get me home again.'

Tony's expression went from amused smirk to sympathetic wince and back before he hid his mouth behind his mug. 'Maybe you shouldn't drop in on other universes so frequently, then.'

Alternate Tony said something in Macedonian, and they grinned at each other. Clint tipped the dregs out of his own cup, grabbed an apple and a packet of frosted pop tarts and went to find somewhere to sulk away the last of his hangover.

****

'So,' Tony said over kung pow chicken and about eighty egg rolls that evening. 'My alternate was doing a bit of politicking with this Triumph Division and decided to help with their teleport research-'

'Saw the chance to be a guinea pig and leapt at it,' Cap said wearily, rubbing at the spot between his eyebrows. 'Yes, Tony. Somehow none of us is surprised.'

Clint watched as both Tonys puffed up, identical irate expressions on their faces and lobbed a piece of chicken into his boyfriend's open mouth. Tony turned the glare on Clint, but he swallowed the chicken. Clint gave him a sunny grin.

'O-o-o-o-o-k,' Alternate Tony stared at Tony for a while. ' _That_ is freaking me out a little.'

'Jealous?' Tony threw half an egg roll at Clint with hideous aim. 'We'll send you home with one of the sex tapes if you like-'

'Not the one from the Helicarrier,' Clint put in, mostly to see Cap's face twist up. Solid gold entertainment right there.

' _One of_ the sex tapes?' Cap... whined. 'No, I don't want to know how many you've made. Please don't tell me.'

Both Tonys smirked at him, and Clint spent a moment wondering... Tony was, after all, a bit of a narcissist diva. He caught Tony's knowing eyebrow and grinned at him.

'No, OK? No!' Alternate Tony shoved at Tony's shoulder. 'Stop it, or I'll never be able to look at Hawkeye again! And he'll keep jumping out at me until I tell him why, and _that_ is a conversation I need to never happen ever.' _Ever._ '

'Your loss, hot stuff,' Clint tossed the remains of his rice into the garbage disposal without looking. 'Never woulda figured you for a prude in any universe, Stark.'

Alternate Tony's face went through a series of hilariously gymnastic twists, knee jerk acceptance of a challenge giving way to outrage and flowing on into a reasonable attempt at aloof. Clint grinned at Tony again. It was nice when the screw up was just odd instead of deadly.

****

The two Tonys barricaded themselves in the lab for the next thirty-seven hours, with regular but infrequent breaks provided by Bruce or Cap forcing their way in bearing cookies or mac 'n cheese or actual fucking chicken soup. Clint was going to spend the next _forever_ laughing at the idea of Cap in a frilly apron scowling down at a pot of some Brooklyn grandma's family recipe for Jewish Penicillin. Because of _course_ he'd've got some yenta to spill her secret, and Clint was in _no way_ jealous of the food-delivery service operating. Nope.

Cap always came out with a concerned frown, but that was situation normal where Tony and his erratic schedule were concerned. As far as Clint was concerned, if Jarvis wasn't worried, no one should be. Tony knew his limits, and a two-hundred pound nanny from the stupid ages was only gonna make him too stubborn to make smart calls.

Bruce usually came out preoccupied and carrying at least one Starkpad with crazy math scrolling across the screen. No one seemed to be gearing up for any action, so Clint let himself focus on his regular training regimen. If there was one thing SHIELD had given him, it was the patience to wait while the brains argued the shit out of every possible outcome before anyone was cleared for even minor action.

The Tower shook with the occasional explosion, but if anything it was a little less frequent than SOP, so even Cap seemed OK with just catching breakables and glaring towards the elevators.

All in all, it was a damn dull week. Clint managed to refrain from starting any inter-floor wars with SI staff, but that was mostly because Tony had cleared all his lab monkeys to use nominally-deadly force, and Jarvis had taken to broadcasting the Best Of moments on fucking Youtube, much to Clint's almost-shame. The video where he'd wound up glued to the turbine powering some simulation of global warming had been particularly embarrassing, though Clint _had_ bookmarked the bit where he'd thrown up and just _coated_ the lab in Bruce's lasagna. The expression on the supervisor's face was pretty golden.

So Clint logged another sixty-odd hours in the range, neatly combining his workout with his practice, thank you very much Tony and his aggressive training bots. He spent another dozen hours trawling through the cooking channel on Tivo trying to find something worth attempting, a handful of hours trying to remember how juggling worked when you used knives and an embarrassing number of hours crawling through the vents trying to spy on his boyfriend and alterna-boyfriend.

Tony was usually really cool about Clint's non-standard route habit, but Jarvis kept shutting him down the floor above or below the lab, citing safety measures and Clint's low boredom threshold with non-sniper things.

'You saying I've got ADD?' Clint rolled his eyes at the latest mesh blocking the South-East vent. None of the elevators would stop within three floors of the lab anymore, not that Clint was especially invested in going there, but the very fact he wasn't _allowed_ made the whole thing irresistible.

' _I_ would never presume so, sir,' Jarvis said, and Clint was more than capable of picking up on prissy English bitchiness, thank you. 'But the Masters Stark have requested solitude while they exhaust all non-Richards options.'

'Yeah,' Clint flicked a fletching at one of the apparent gaps in the mesh, but it fizzled with an acrid smell. Obviously Jarvis was serious this time. 'Got it: go bug people with less important business.'

Jarvis's lack of denial was confirmation enough. Clint hauled himself back to the corridor and went to find someone fun to annoy.

****

When they finally came out of the lab sixteen hours later, faintly singed and greasier than Sully the Circus's mechanic, Clint paused his game and said 'is there some problem with finding those Filipino superheroes in _this_ reality?'

He was expecting a tirade about simple solutions and having discounted that _eight days ago, Clint_ , but the Tonys froze. Identical looks of shamed embarrassment flooded across nearly-identical features and Clint raised his eyebrows.

'Really, Tony?' he tossed his controller into the storage pocket. 'You didn't even try googling this Victory Unit or whatever?'

'Triumph Division,' they corrected in creepy unison, and Tony turned to the nearest Starkpad and started tapping at it.

'Wow,' Clint blinked at the two of them. 'Do you do _everything_ like the creepy twins now?'

Alternate Tony snorted and leaned into Tony to mutter something in his ear. Tony's fingers tapped on the Starkpad, then he made the needlessly-showy gesture that threw the info up on the bajillion screens embedded in every flat surface in the tower.

Clint gave the busy displays a once-over. Grainy security footage, a few DMV photos, and a whole lotta text. 'So they _do_ exist here.'

Tony grinned at him. 'JARVIS, prep the jet to leave for the Philippines tomorrow morning. And get SI Hong Kong to arrange an interpreter-'

' _Finally_!' Clint punched the air. 'A language you don't speak.'

'Actually...' Alternate Tony smirked at them. 'JARVIS, you can cancel the request for an interpreter. _Marunong akong magsalita ng Tagalog_.'

Tony turned his _I-must-science!_ expression on his duplicate, obviously going to spend the next twelve hours finding out why they spoke a different selection of foreign languages, but Clint hadn't even _seen_ Tony in more than a day.

'Come on, you,' he grabbed Tony by the oily Iron Maiden shirt and pulled him towards their bedroom. 'We've got ten hours to kill.'

Alternate Tony's expression was an hilarious mix of scandalised, horny and curious. Clint very nearly dragged him along too, but he had _plans_ for the night.

'Rude,' Tony grinned into Clint's mouth as the bedroom door closed behind them. 'You're a dreadful host, Barton.'

'Hey, hotshot,' Clint dragged Tony's shirt up and off him. 'It's _your_ house. You're the one failing your guest.'

'Lies,' Tony laughed and toed his shoes off, then shoved the jeans down. 'You're on the lease too.'

'Wait,' Clint straightened with a start, abandoning his drop to his knees. 'I'm what?!'

Tony smirked and threw himself down on the bed, hands folded behind his head. 'All the Avengers. Had Pepper get Legal to put everyone's names on their floors, so you and I are properly cohabiting.'

'Don't I have to sign something for that to be legal?' Clint absently stripped his own clothes and crawled up into Tony's lap. 'And shouldn't you have _asked_? Cap's not gonna be happy to be suddenly owning a million in prime Manhattan real estate.'

' _A_ million,' Tony scoffed, and Clint was a little terrified to ask how much their high tech clubhouse was actually worth. 'And that's why I just did it. Forgiveness, not permission, yadda yadda.'

Clint let his new homeowner status settle in, prodding at the idea like a bruise to see if he was upset. It was a shock, sure. And Tony's utter inability to _ask_ was less endearing than the bastard imagined, but Clint actually felt pretty good about this particular surprise.

'Clint...?' Tony pushed up on his elbows, smirk sliding into a concerned pout. 'Is this like the thing with the speedboat-'

Clint tackled him to the mattress, bit the question out of Tony's mouth and wrapped a hand around their twin erections. Tony, always quick on the uptake, relaxed against him and threw a knee around Clint's.

****

The flight was awesome, as Starkjet flights were wont to be, but the plush cabin was thick with Alternate Tony's awkward. Clint grinned his most irritating grin and settled down with his head in Tony's lap.

Partly to make sure the Wonder Twins didn't disappear into the toilet to do some more science, but mostly because Tony gave the _most_ amazing scalp massages when he was distracted.

‘So your universe…’ Clint rolled his head over to raise his eyebrows at Alterna-Tony. ‘Much different, aside from your woeful failure to see my many charms?’

Alterna-Tony rolled his eyes so hard Clint could _hear_ it. ‘Did you get a whole lot more blows to the head than I did?’

Tony smirked around the rim of his scotch. ‘I bet I’ve had a whole lot more blows of _some_ sort.’

Clint raised his fist and got the required bump, then grabbed Tony by the hair and pulled him down for a kiss. Alterna-Tony huffed, but it sounded wistful.

‘We’ve still got a few hours flight time,’ Clint leered at him. ‘That three-way offer remains open.’

‘Jesus, Tony,’ Alterna-Tony laughed. ‘He’s even more shameless than _us_. I’m almost seeing the attraction now.’

‘Hey,’ Clint said, raising one finger in Alterna-Tony’s general direction. ‘I’m _adorable_.’

‘Su-ure,’ Alterna-Tony’s grin was less than convincing, and after a moment he gave up the attempt. ‘Sorry. It’s been a while since I had that.’

He waved a hand at Tony and Clint, gaze gone unfocussed and he sighed again. Tony stroked his hand down Clint’s biceps and said ‘it doesn’t come along often.’

Clint basked in the warm feeling for the rest of the flight, only a little sorry for Alterna-Tony.

****

The only other time Clint had been in Manilla was on an assignment half a dozen years ago. He'd spent most of his time trying to find a work-arround for the things the humidity was doing to his bow and needling Coulson about his linen suits.

The whole debacle had ended with Clint holding the edges of a gash in his side closed while he free-ran over slum rooves which kept buckling under his weight, trying to catch up to the punk with the switchblade who'd stolen his phone. He'd snapped his bow when he misjudged a jump and went crashing through some sheets of corrugated iron, ruined a hollow-eyed family's dinner with his size twelve combat boots and passed out in a pool of his own blood and weevily rice. It had taken Coulson three whole days to find him, the whole mission got scrubbed as an irredeemable shit fight and Clint had spent six weeks in and out of medical with new and interesting types of blood poisoning.

Manilla from the back of Tonys airconditioned limo was a very different experience. Street traffic was much slower than running across rooftops, but just this once Clint preferred it.

'You two sure this is safe?' Clint said as the driver pulled up to a gated temple. 'Definitely not an AIM trap?'

Clint had put a call in to SHIELD Beijing when Tony had first suggested the trip, so he was pretty confident the Triumph Division were legit, but a little paranoia never hurt.

'It'll be _fine_ ,' Alterna-Tony flapped a hand at Clint and slipped a pair of sunglasses even more obnoxious than Tony's on. 'You worry too much, Hawkeye.'

Clint let his eyebrows rise just as high as they wated to at that bit of hypocricy. Alterna-Tony just grinned and slipped out of the limo. Clint turned a more-concerned look on Tony.

'You want me up high?' Clint gave in to instinct and theraded his fingers through Tony's. 'I didn't bring my bow, but I can work something out?'

Tony leant forward t press his lips to Clint's. 'If it'll make you feel better, there's a Stark Mark Twelve rifle under your seat and a clear view of the whole temple from the building to our left.'

Clint felt himself relax. 'It _would_.'

Tony swiped a thumb across Clint's cheekbone. 'For what it's worth, I'm pretty sure this'll go smoothly, but I always feel safer when you're keeping an eye out.'

Clint laughed. 'You woudn't give two bucks for your safety, you asshole. You're lucky I like your dumb face.'

Tony's smile softened, and he slipped out after his double. Clint waited until the door closed, then threw the compartment under his seat open. As promised, there was a brand new Stark rifle lying there; ten clips nestled around its beautiful stock. It looked like Tony had done some significant customising of it, too. The whole thing fit against Clint like a third arm, and Tony had even installed a set f virtual sights to Clint's personal specs.

If it hadn't already been a sure thing, Clint would've fallen for Tony just because of this gun.

'Oh, _baby_...' Clint breathed, stroking the stock with reverence. 'Where have you been all my life?'

The Manilla air was thick with humidity when Clint climbed out. He was slick with sweat by the time he reached the fire escape on the building Tony had pointed out. It was an easy climb in spite of the heat, and Clint had a clear view of most of the temple's grounds. There was some sort of tree obscuring the far corner, but Clint could see both Tonys through the scope. Their body language was calm and relaxed, and Clint couldn't see anything to be worried about. It was hard to tell the Tonys apart from a distance; harder at the angle Clint was watching from. One of them said something the other laughed at, then they were surrounded by a loose ring of people. Clint's finger tightened on the trigger, but one of the Tonys stepped forward with spread hands and the other half turned to flash an “all good” signal at Clint.

'Yeah, you say that _now_ ,' Clint muttered, easing his trigger finger back. 'Fine. Follow your creepy twin into an unsecured foreign location, don't get any backup apart from your excellent boyfriend. Not that I can't handle it, oh no. But you gotta take the risks, don't you?'

Neither of the Tonys gave any indication of acknowleding Clint's totally valid criticism.

A tall woman stepped forward and spread her hands in front of Alterna-Tony. A sort of heat haze appeared all around him, then he was gone. Tony shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels; he was obviously asking the woman what had happened.

Clint watched as the crowd faded back into the temple, the woman bending forward to murmur something to Tony. Tony's body language stayed loose, so when he bade farewell to her and headed back to the limo, Clint only waited until Tony was clear before breaking down the rifle and free-climbing down the building.

'That was it?' Clint asked as he slid into the cool air of the limo. 'She just... sent him back?'

'That was it,' Tony confirmed. 'We'd sent them all our data, and apparently Mighty Mother had the fix all ready for us.'

'OK then,' Clint twisted so he could lay his head in Tony's lap. 'Mini break, since we're already here? Didn't pack my trunks, so I'm gonna have to skinny dip.'

'That,' Tony said, already rapping on the divider to give the driver new directions. 'Is _exactly_ what I was thinking.'


End file.
